


The Club of Those Who Have Seen

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Episode: s01e13 T.R.A.C.K.S., Short, Tahiti is a Magical Place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye's been brought back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Club of Those Who Have Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing my brain did to me at night.  
> I own nothing, I just made this up. ;)  
> Un-betaed (as always). Hope you like it!

It's making her shiver, this very weird sort of melancholia which, apparently, likes to creep into her bunk through the tiny slit of light every single night since she's been brought back. It makes her want to hide completely, like a child, underneath her blanket which suddenly isn't fluffy enough to protect her from what she's seen anymore. Everything has been a little too cold, too empty, too colourless since her return; not _meaningless_ , mind you, but different. In a very scary way. He's been avoiding her ever since; not in a too obvious way, well, at least not in a way that would make either one of them seem unprofessional, but he is avoiding her eyes. And as Skye draws the blanket up to her still too-cold chin, it suddenly makes sense to her, at least for a moment: he's scared, too. _That's right._ Scared of seeing in her eyes what she's previously seen in his - this weirdly unsettling melancholy ache, this yearning for answers, the fear that comes with having seen more that anyone was ever meant to see, having been forced to understand things that were supposed to stay beyond human comprehension; an unfulfillable restlessness that keeps you awake for hours and makes you dream in déjà-vus for many more. It should make them partners of some sort, she thinks; they could found a _Club of Those Who Have Seen_. She chuckles. Or the _Victims of Tahiti_ or something. _Whatever_. She knows too much to believe those pictures, and yet she knows she must appreciate them, just as Coulson does his, in a way, for they are supposed to have saved them from themselves.

She turns around a little to decidedly, accidentally knocking her fingers against the goddamn bedside table; also, now she isn't lying on a pre-warmed spot anymore. Sure, it's still the same things that suck, life on the bus hasn't changed at all, except for Ward subtly trying to multiply her helpings of pancakes in the morning, May cracking the occasional half-smile, and Fitzsimmons being even more bubbly and caring as they used to be ( _if that's even possible, ha_ ). It's just that these weird shivers, these weird thoughts, well, they keep her from ever really getting warm. Sometimes it feels like she's never left that creepy conservation tube. Her toes feel sort of numb and finally, she decides to get up. Who cares if she doesn't sleep yet; next mission is scheduled for Tuesday only. Feeling mildly rebellious, she sneaks out of her bunk, going for a glass of warm milk, _because that's what you're supposed to drink when you're unable to sleep, right?_ Although, as she's peeking into the fridge, she has to admit, for the past few nights, she's secretly been hoping to meet Coulson somewhere. To talk, or, well, at least _try_ and talk. Somewhere in the back of her head, it makes sense that getting him to share more about what has been done to him would make this easier for her. Maybe, though, she's supposed to figure this shit out on her own somehow. It's her head that's been messed with, after all, her death that's recently been deleted in a very twisted way. 

She's about to close the fridge and almost jumps at his voice.  
"Still awake?"  
It's such a soft and careful question, and yet, she spills a few drops of milk.  
"AC," she turns, trying to smile a little, maybe it's going to distract him from her shaking fingers. She puts the glass aside to take care of the little puddle.  
"Care for a game of Backgammon?," he asks, and she tells herself it's something she shouldn't decline for some reason. She gives a weird smile that agrees. A few minutes later, they are sitting on the couch, and it's awkward, because Backgammon is, _you know_ , sort of _very_ old-fashioned, and Skye's struggling to remember some of the strategies the crinkled little neighbour lady at one of her foster families tried to teach her. Also, he's just sitting there without his suit jacket and with his tie loosened, and everything is just so _unofficial_. She's been holding onto one of her knees the whole time, and as he wins again - well, it's no surprise to her, but maybe in a few weeks, she'll challenge him again, and _then_ he'll see -, she gives an exhausted little chuckle, gently touching the board as she says,  
"I think I'll have to practice a little bit so I'll be able inflict a proper defeat on you next time."

He smiles, but it's a cautious smile. They both reach for the checkers, suddenly very busy hands putting them back into the box; he folds the board, and putting the game away feels like closing something forever. For a moment, they sit there in complete silence, Skye fumbling with the fabric around her knee.  
"It took me months, you know."  
She stares at him, almost shocked, and it _is_ there, in his eyes, the same it's been all the time, and she wonders what he sees in hers now, what _anyone_ could learn now from simply looking at her. The thought scares her; _hell_ , maybe now it's like she's had 'resurrected' stamped onto her forehead or something.  
Her expression must have gone a little blank, because he carefully touches her shoulder for a moment, and _that's weird_ , coming from Coulson. She feels her focus return, and he explains, "To sleep properly."  
She nods weakly, pulling up her second knee, hugging her legs. 

Another moment passes before she speaks, shyly.  
"How are your nightmares?"  
Now it's his turn to look somewhat flabbergasted - although, with Coulson, it's hard to tell sometimes - and she almost blushes. "Don't tell me I'm wrong."  
He's actually sighing, but it doesn't sound as though he were angry with her.  
"They're fading slowly, I guess."  
 _Are they about you or me_ , she wants to ask, but doesn't dare to. Her hesitation probably shows, because the next time she risks her dignity and looks up at him, he raises his brows a little. But she doesn't speak, and a moment later, he looks away, and she's scared she's done something wrong, even though, God, she hasn't even actually _done_ anything. She's about to make a lame excuse and go back to bed, but he says - and he sounds unusually raspy -,  
"Sometimes it still feels as though I'd lost you."  
She lets go of her knees, almost waiting.  
"Skye, I - I don't think I've ever apologized."

She slides just this little bit closer. It takes her a moment of hesitation, but she puts her hand on his knee. She's not sure what to say, but settles for "Ward can be such an idiot sometimes," and it seems to be the _exact_ right thing, because he actually looks at her and smiles one of those _rare_ smiles, and the creepy sneaky _scary_ melancholia in his eyes is almost gone for a second.  
"But I hear he makes marvellous pancakes," he tries, with mock seriousness, and it cracks Skye up, also because she's sitting on a couch with her boss and they've just played Backgammon and her palm is on his leg, and moreover, _they've both been brought back from the dead_ and it's almost _four_ in the morning and they're on a _goddamn_ plane to _Peru_. He joins in, and it makes her feel all giddy for a minute, and then, out of the blue, it's just over. Suddenly, he looks as if he wanted to run, but manages to maintain a little elegance and only sits up very straight. The painfulness of it makes her want to cringe, and even though she knows it's just _stupid_ , she blurts out,  
"Well, look at it this way: now you've got your own personal agony aunt. Complete empathy in resurrection issues guaranteed by personal experience." The half-hearted grin that goes with it makes it unmistakeably clear that she's joking, but he doesn't relax. 

Instead, he makes their eyes lock, and it tears at her insides when he says, "You've already done more for me than you know." There are goddamn fucking _tears_ around her lashes somehow, and she smiles, but at the same time, she just starts crying, and it's all so embarrassing and she should just have gotten some sleep, because she isn't supposed to be this _emotional_ , at least not in front of her boss in the middle of the night -  
\- but his arms are suddenly around her, and she's sobbing into his shoulder - _good thing he's not wearing his suit jacket_ -, and he's holding her very tight, and she just lets go. She can probably never look at him again, because, well, _sniffling_ into your boss' shirt isn't exactly the most un-embarrassing of things, but he's still holding onto her for some reason, and then she realizes that his shoulders, too, are shivering, and that's when she wraps her arms around him best as she can. 

They sit like this forever, no, seriously, _forever_ , and it's weird, but it really makes everything better. Sure, life's not all unicorns and candy and rainbows now, but stuff suddenly just feels a bit _repaired_. And then, all of a sudden, it's clear that _now_ is the moment to get untangled, and it's all awkward and hasty, but they smile at each other a little bit. Coulson gets up first and while he doesn't even look at the wet spot she left on his shirt, the first thing he does is check his tie ( _the Lord knows_ why he was wearing a tie at _four in the morning_ in the first place), and she almost chuckles at that. She stands, too, and after a split-second of awkward hovering, she starts walking down the corridor towards all the bunks, and he follows. It's all so weird, but she stops in front of hers, and he does, too, out of politeness, because his bunk is further down, and it's probably just for a pretty professional good-night. Suddenly, Skye's very shy, and it feels stupid, because _come on, woman, you've got a job at S.H.I.E.L.D_ , but she can't help it.  
Without really looking up, she half-whispers (Jemma is sleeping in the bunk _next_ to hers!), "Good night, AC."

"Good night," he says, and it sounds clement and warm and soft, and he leans in carefully to place a small kiss on her forehead (maybe the 'resurrected' stamp really _is_ there, the cynical little Skye voice inside her says), and even though she's terrified, she pulls him back (because her brain is on overdrive and she feels a little dizzy from not sleeping, and suddenly, everything makes so much _sense_ and it feels as though they are comrades-in-arms and fellow warriors and secret partners, not like in that _Club_ , but just _in general_ ) and

she kisses him on the lips. Very softly, very carefully. And _oh yes_ , very _very_ briefly. And she's about to bolt, but she's brave enough to check first what his reaction's like, and to her surprise, she finds him smiling. He doesn't kiss her back, but _good God_ , Coulson is positively _beaming_ at her, so she brushes his arm and tries, "Good night, .. _Phil_."  
He doesn't reply, but Skye swears there was a very small hint of a very tiny nod, a smiling nod, and he squeezes her fingers before he walks away, and suddenly, all the coldness is _gone_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! :)  
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
